Nothing that I think mattered when it came to potty training. As Joe Dirt says, "It is not about you it is about the consumer." My suggestions were ignored. My advice not heeded. My directives were met with screams and stomping. For the first three hours of potty training boot camp, Her Highness sat on the potty everytime I asked. For the other 15 and a half days we have been sans diapers, my insistence on her sitting on the potty has resulted in one thing: excrement where it does not belong. It was a hard lesson to learn, mostly for me. Every book says to repeatedly ask the child if they need to go. Every thirty minutes. After a meal. When you wake up. Before bed. After snack. What the book does not tell you is what to do if she vehemently denies the need to go then takes a piss on the couch. So I will tell you exactly what to do if you have a child who is adverse to suggestion. Here is the big secret. STOP ASKING. In our case, this immediately lead to her telling me she needed to go or in most cases just going. Basically, the more I was sweating her, the more she was resisting. Too bad I did not figure that out until day three. Hard lesson learned. Once I gave her the control, she did great. She gets that whole, I have to be in charge of everything all the time or I will loose my shiz, from her Daddy.
|Heaps O' Wet Panties|
|I would rather pee on this floor than listen to you.|
Day three had to be better than day two, which ended with me rethinking if I was doing the right thing. I wasn't sure either of us were ready for potty training. After near tears and a pep talk from Hubs with rousing phrases like "don't let her beat you," I pressed on. Discouraged but hopeful. We started the day with a trip to Target for all things potty. I bought enough panties for a set of triplets with a UTI, added in Training Panties (poorly cut but heavily padded), and a book on pottying featuring Abbie Cadabbie that makes a host of annoying sound effects. We were on the home stretch of our Target circuit, working our way up through cosmetics and sunscreen. All of the sudden she let out a fart that a grown man at a truck stop would be proud to claim, and giggled, startling a very nice lady perusing the hair dye. Then Lady Baby uttered the phrase that will make mothers move mountains. "I have to pee-pee." As soon as I heard the sacred phrase, I dropped the nail polish I was looking at and started swiftly moving towards the front, frantically trying to locate the restroom. Her Highness, sensing the inevitable tinklage, starts screeching, "faster, faster, faster Moommmeeyy. I have to PEE PEE." I am pretty sure there are still cart tracks where we skidded out in front of the registers to make the turn. You haven't lived until you have run through Taret, dodging carts and praying to the potty training gods. But make it we did. And that was when I knew that we were going to be ok. We would both live through this ordeal. I would not die from stress and I would not kill my child in the process.